Slowly, she dragged her gaze away from his hands to look into the blue depths of his eyes. Did he understand his power? Did he know he was gifted, as her grandmother would say?
Like a bolt of lightning in the young summer sky, it struck her that if she needed him, if she needed those hands, all she would have to do was say his name.
“Daniel,” she breathed.
He tilted his head, a confused smile on his lips. “Yes?”
She blinked and stepped away, severing the contact. “I guess I’ll, um, go get dressed.”
“You don’t have to.”
“What?” she asked sharply, the electricity from his touch still sparking in her blood.
“I mean, I could always come back later. You should…get some rest…if you’re tired.” He stood, towering over her. How could he be two years younger than her? He was bigger, stronger, than most men she knew.
“No, no. I mean, I’m up now, right?” She smiled, wondering if her cheeks were as red as they felt.
Daniel nodded. “If you’re sure. I’ll wait outside while you dress.”
She tried to smile casually. “I’ll be right out.” She hurried to her bedroom before he could say another word, releasing the breath she was holding once she shut the door.
What was that? She wished she could talk to her mother, or her grandmother. She would describe what she saw, what she felt, and they could tell her what it all meant. But they were both gone, the memories of their stories was all that she had of them now. Carol didn’t know if she believed in everything they’d said—most of it had sounded like fairy tales to her—but they could have been right about a few things.
They could have been right about the gift.
They could have been right about soul mates.
They could have been right about love at first sight. Or second sight, as it were.
“There will be some truly special people in your life,” her grandmother had said on her deathbed. She had clutched Carol’s hand, pulling her close to whisper the final words of advice. “When you find them, don’t let them go. They’ll save you.”
* * * *
Mountain Grove, Idaho
1988
The words had been vague, almost meaningless then, but they’d haunted her as she dressed. And every day thereafter.
“You never told me any of that before,” Daniel murmured now, taking her hand in his. Their fingers folded around each other, forming a perfect bond.
“Well, it all seemed so…big…then. Like too much to share. And later, well, I thought you knew.” She brought his hand to her mouth, kissing each knuckle. “But I was right, wasn’t I?”
“You could have told me. Maybe it would have made things easier.”
“Did you really need to be told you were my anchor…my salvation?” she asked, her green eyes watery.
“Sometimes I needed to be told that you knew me at all,” he pointed out dryly.
She looked away, her face troubled. “You’re right, of course. I’ve been awful to you, Daniel. Why are you still here at all? You’ve still got a few good years, you should find somebody who deserves you.”
“Hey,” he said, hooking his finger beneath her chin. “You’re not trying to get rid of me, are you? Because I’m not going to let you run this time.”
She gave a wan smile. “No, nothing like that. I’m not going to run away. Not if you’ll still have me.”
“You’re a remarkable woman, Carol. I’ve been waiting a long time.”
“Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if I never went to San Francisco.”
“Oh, everything would have been different. No doubt about it. But would it have been better? Be honest with me, Carol, would you have changed anything?”
Her eyes grew distant as she looked across the valley. She looked wistful, nostalgic, peaceful, and young. Daniel’s heart swelled, as it always did when he saw her in a certain light, in a certain way.
“Not one thing,” she said. “Not a thing.”
Chapter 2
San Francisco, California
1955
Carol stalked through her tiny apartment, wiping away imaginary dust, lighting candles, and biting the inside of her cheek until it ached. Each minute crawled across her skin as she waited for the phone to ring. She regretted kicking her roommates out—she would have liked their company while she waited for Daniel.
“It’s been two years, you can wait two more minutes…or hours,” she assured herself, crossing to the door. She thought she might die before he finally arrived. Running one hand over her unruly hair, she pulled open the door, a part of her intent on tracking him down through the streets of San Francisco.
“Carol,” he breathed, his hand upraised, prepared to knock. “I—”
Her face flushed, her heart beating an erratic tattoo. She looked up to meet his bright eyes, wondering if she had the same wild spark in hers. “Daniel. You made it.”
“I would have been here sooner but…” He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I got a little lost.”
“You look…” Her tongue felt roughly the size of a melon in her mouth, and her throat seemed much too tight. “Your suit is very…” Her words refused to travel from her mind to her lips. She could barely hear her own voice over the sound of her pounding heart.
“I had it pressed this morning,” he said, pulling himself to his full height and puffing out his chest. “I wanted to look nice for you.”
“You do. Look nice.” Carol shook her head, blinking. “Where are my manners? Come in, come in. Would you like something to drink?”
“Coffee, if you have it.”
“Of course. Here, have a seat.” She brushed her fingers against his solid shoulder as she directed him to the couch, resisting the temptation to wrap her hand around his arm.
“So…this is your apartment, huh?” he asked, looking around.
She studied his face, looking for any hint of disapproval. “Well, mine with a few friends. It may not seem like much, but it’s better than a cabin the woods!” She laughed, though it sounded forced, and almost shrill.
“Have you been back to Mountain Grove at all?” he asked, playing with the loose threads on the couch.
“Um, no. But Dad writes me every week. He told me your mother is doing well…everybody is doing well.” The kitchen was a tiny nook in the corner of the apartment, just big enough for a hot-plate, a sink, and a used ice-box her roommate, Rodney, had bought for a few bucks on some street corner. “Are you hungry? I could make a sandwich—”
“No, I ate already.”
She tried to focus on the ritual of making coffee, but she couldn’t stop looking at Daniel. He was still the same person she remembered—though he had been a boy on the brink of manhood. Looking at the lines around his eyes, the down slope of his mouth, even the hunch in his shoulders, she knew that boy was gone. The man sitting in her living room was nearly a stranger to her, but all she wanted to do was touch him. Would his hair be fine or thick, soft or rough? Would his body be hard, muscled, seasoned?
“…letters.”
Carol blinked, pulling herself back to reality. “What was that?”
“I did get your letters. I’m sorry I didn’t write back…I’m not very good at, you know, writing my thoughts. The letters meant a lot to me.” He smiled for the first time, though he looked almost rueful. “Probably more than you’ll know.”
“I promised, didn’t I?” Carol asked, remembering the dozens of letters she had painstakingly crafted, only to burn them before she could send them. Moving to San Francisco didn’t scare her. Living with virtual strangers didn’t scare her. Finding a job, taking care of herself, and leaving her father behind didn’t give her a moment’s pause. But she couldn’t find the courage to tell Daniel…
“Coffee’s done,” she announced. “How do you drink it?”
“Black.”
She soon settled beside him on the ratty couch, j
ust out of touching distance. She watched him over the rim of her cup as he sipped the liquid, his face almost serene. She tried to drink her own coffee, but it tasted far too bitter. Putting it aside, she hunted for something to say when she didn’t want to speak at all.
“How long will you be staying here in San Francisco?”
Daniel shifted his weight again, looking at her from the corner of his eye. “I hadn’t really thought about it. I know Mom is missing me, and of course, she’s going to need my help in a few months when it’s time to plant. But I wanted to stick around for a little bit…maybe see what it’s like living in the big city.”
“Do you have a place to stay?”
“I might stay with a friend of mine.”
“I see.”
Carol didn’t understand how he could consider going home when to her it felt like a million miles away. Everything was too far, too distant. She had thought of him every night. Every time somebody kissed her, she thought of all her missed opportunities—every single time she should have kissed Daniel with all her passion. There were too many to count, but she remembered each one, each pivotal second, each obstacle between them. She remembered Daniel’s firm hands, his quiet smile, and his unspoken strength.
“But I haven’t really decided anything yet,” he continued. “I pretty much left my plans open.”
“Why?”
“Because I—” He broke off his words, shaking his head. “You’re so beautiful.”
Surprised by the compliment, Carol’s face heated,. “Well, thank you.”
“I mean, your hair…” He slid his fingers through a strand of curls, his face rapt. “And your skin.” His fingertips—rough but familiar—slid across her cheek. “And your smile.” He touched the corner of her mouth now. “All I could think about was coming home to you.”
Carol lightly kissed his finger, holding it against her mouth. “I’ve missed you so much. More than I…more than I thought possible.”
He leaned toward her. She inhaled deeply, simultaneously stimulated and soothed by the smell of his sweat, his soap, and the lingering cloud of cigarettes and coffee. None of the other men she knew smelled like him—the pollution of the city clung to them, while Daniel never lost the sweet, but subtle, fragrance of the mountains. Quite simply, he smelled like home.
Now he was just an inch away from her, his lips full and warm from the coffee. Her skin burned where he had touched her, and she ached for more contact. She curled her fingers around his shirt, encouraging him to move closer…and closer…until their lips were just a breath apart.
“I’ve been waiting to do this since the moment I saw you,” he said, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.
Carol nodded, beyond speaking. She couldn’t pull enough air into her lungs. She couldn’t engage her brain. She couldn’t force her muscles to respond. All she could do was wait for him to finally touch her, to finally wrap his thick arms around her, to finally caress her with his soothing hands.
Daniel’s lips were like a warm, thick balm on bruised flesh. The fingers wrapped in his shirt tightened as she gripped the back of his head with her other hand, holding him against her. A part of her had always worried that their first kiss would be awkward, strange, or just a disappointment. But there was nothing awkward or weird about their contact, and the way he poured his soul into the kiss, exposing his entire self to her, was far from disappointing.
They started slow, exploratory, almost hesitant. Carol held herself back, afraid to react too strongly, certain that if she lost control, she would scare him away. But the pressure built by the second, each breath coming sharper and faster until she was gasping, reaching, tearing at his clothes. He responded with similar passion, his hands diving beneath her shirt, seeking her warm, soft flesh.
Daniel touched her nipple through her bra, the back of his knuckles skimming across the soft cotton and taut flesh. She shuddered, arching her back, silently encouraging him to continue, to do more, to go farther. Any hesitation she might have had, any second thoughts, were promptly forgotten after he made short work of her bra, when skin finally met skin, flesh met flesh.
Her father had instilled a deep sense of right and wrong in her young mind, struggling every day to equip her with strong morals and a reverence to God. She knew he would see this as a sin. She knew that if he knew what she was doing, what she wanted to do, he would be steeped in bitter, shocked disappointment. But as their clothes fell away and revealed their bodies, as their mouths discovered new pleasures, their hands new desires, Carol couldn’t believe any of it was sinful.
She looked down at one point, her mind fuzzy, only to discover that she was naked, her clothes somewhere out of sight. Daniel was above her, his chest bare, his pants hanging open around his hips. She touched his tanned skin with awe, lightly running her fingers across his flexing muscles. Driven to distraction by his trembling flesh and the small, involuntary moans coming from his throat, she moved to kiss him, tasting his salty-sweet skin. Her lips covered his skin, moving over his nipples, unable to get enough of the smell and feel of him. Her hands joined the exploration—she smoothed them over his shoulders, completely pushing away his shirt as she moved on to the bare expanse of his back.
Daniel’s hands were everywhere. She couldn’t keep track of where he touched her. She couldn’t keep track of his caresses or kisses any more than she could count the rays of light that fell on her body. A hot, fervent light surrounded her and settled in her flesh, pulsing and glowing with each moment of contact, each shared breath, each slow kiss.
Carol rose to meet him, her body open, bare, vulnerable. Trusting that he wouldn’t hurt her, she unfolded like a melody, waiting for him to take the final step. She pushed his pants down his legs with her hands and feet as he struggled to free himself. Their mouths were connected, their bodies already rocking together, finding the perfect, natural rhythm.
Daniel looked up suddenly, as though somebody had slapped him across the face. “Did you hear that?”
She blinked, trying to parse his words. “What?”
“That noise.”
With careful pronunciation, she explained it was just the neighbors. “The walls are thin,” she added.
“What about your roommates?”
“Who?”
“The people you live with.”
“They won’t be back. They…won’t be back.”
That seemed to be enough for Daniel. He readjusted himself between her legs, his manhood long and thick against her thigh. She understood that if she had any second thoughts, now would be the time to voice them, while she still had the ability to think and speak. Instead of protests, all she could think about were the long nights she spent in her cold cabin, staring at the low ceiling, and wishing he were there to keep her warm. Her fingers had snuck between her thighs those nights, finding the delicate nub of flesh in a desperate attempt to ward off the chill and alleviate her raging passions.
He had been all she could think about then, and he was all she could think about now. Touching herself and thinking of him had been satisfying in a cold, bitter sort of way, but she would never be happy with that again. Not now. Not while he was so close to fulfilling her hidden fantasies.
Carol’s body throbbed like an ignored toothache, the blood so close to her skin that even a light breeze or a soft breath could make her shiver, could send chills down her spine. Her thighs were slick, trembling. Her stomach a tight ball of writhing snakes. She couldn’t speak to Daniel, couldn’t express her desire with words. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him against her, pulling him into her flesh.
Daniel’s moan echoed hers as he finally pushed into her, thrusting his hips forward. A brief moment of pain flared in her body, but was extinguished by the bigger wave of bliss rolling through her veins. She stared at him as he slowly pulled out and thrust into her again, their eyes clashing and locking. She could see the stormy Pacific in his eyes, the bright blue sky, the canopy of stars. She couldn’t look away from him
, and she didn’t want to. She wanted to stare into those depths, learn their secrets, study each subtle shift in color until she couldn’t see at all anymore.
Daniel moved faster, his breath coming in low moans and grunts. His moans masked her own, but she still held herself back, biting her tongue to keep from shouting his name and her joy. The pleasure threatened to erupt from her until she knew she wouldn’t be able to contain it for another moment, her body a weak vessel. She convulsed around him, her entire body contracting and bursting open with one final wave of bliss. Their sweat mingled as he slowed, and finally stopped, their chests heaving.
Daniel rested his head against her shoulder, his heart hammering against his chest and echoing through hers. She wrapped her arms around him, her eyes heavy. Carol wanted only to curl up against him and sleep in the comfort of his arms, against the solid wall of his chest.
“I’ve been dreaming of that for so long,” he admitted, his voice uneven.
“Me, too.”
“The night before you left Mountain Grove, I wanted to just…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but she understood.
“I wish you had.”
“I couldn’t. Not then.” He lifted his head, his face almost aglow. She had never seen him look so happy, so complete. “I’m so glad I came home to you.”
Carol caressed his cheek. “I tried to tell you in my letters that I…what I felt…about you. We were always more than just friends but I didn’t know—”
“I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you.” He blushed a little, the tips of his ears turning red. “I thought you knew that.”
Her heart expanded, filling her chest. She had a sudden vision of the two of them snuggling in coffee shops, discussing current events in bookstores, going to the small, underground rallies where she had met all her friends, spending long nights at the wharf. She wanted to share her life with him. Her new life. Maybe he could find a good job and they could move into their own apartment.
Engaging Carol Page 3